If All My Dreams Were Made Of Gold
by notalone91
Summary: It's 1912 and all he wants is to get his young wife out of the prejudice of turn of the century England aboard the fabled an ill-fated Titanic. [My first Rumbelle, so go easy on me.]


A/N: I don't know where this came from. I'm sorry. And, you know, as usual none of the characters or anything are mine. The two songs are reasonably popular ones that date back to approximately 1911. If you're curious and look them up on youtube, I'm pretty sure they're on there

One brisk morning, a couple readied themselves for work in the same manner they did every one prior since moving in together. She, tying her apron strings behind her back and tidying her hair; He, drying his hair haphazardly while singing along to the record on the phonograph. While they had more money than they could possibly spend, neither felt that they should be without work, especially since that German gunship had sparked tensions all across the world starting in Morocco. He was partner in an antiquities shop in Bristol; She taught English to immigrants just up the road in Redland.

"There's not a thing I wouldn't do, if she asked me to." The record clicked to a stop and he hummed the line again as he slid it back into its jacket. "Things'll be better for us in America, dearie." He turned to his new wife and kissed her on the forehead, fingers loosing a curl just above her ear, adding, "I swear it."

She looked up at him, her blue eyes welling with tears. "How?" She asked tentatively, her fingers knitting at the lace edge of her apron. "How can you say that things will be any different than they are right now?"

He knew what she was worried about. Of course he did. With his temper, how could he not? The whisper about town was that he had bought his wife from some poor bastard to keep him from starving to death. Truth be told, the more grave the stories became, one so far as to say that he pillaged town after town looking for the right girl and that he picked Belle out of spite because she fought back, hence the cane and the limp, the more he wanted to hear their tales. It became a game to him, to play the part, but he could see that it was tearing her down. Stories were flooding in about the industry in America and how grand it really was and it seemed, to him, that that was exactly where they needed to be.

His wife surveyed him expectantly, throwing a wrench into his gears. He hadn't really planned for a discussion. "Because," he paced. "Because it's the land of opportunity." Not it. "Because whatever happens, we'll be together." She smiled a bit, but rolled her eyes. He leaned in close and cupped her face in his hands "And, because I can promise you that America is full of families of mixed countries of origin, and no one will whisper about the Aussie and the Scot and what sort of deal an old man like me must've struck to marry the likes of you." She laughed a bit and he knew he'd won. He kissed her sweetly as an accent to the flattery.

"So, Titanic?" she asked with a sigh, sliding the pamphlet off the table and reading it to herself.

The sun shone brightly as the Golds headed through the White Star Line queue and down toward the dock. "Second class this way," came a voice booming from the platform in front of them.

Belle began to snake her way through to the left, but was caught by her husband's hand keeping her in the direction they'd been heading. "I thought we were-"

He smiled smoothly, entwining his arm with hers. "Now, I didn't say anything. We're travelling first class, sweetheart." Her eyes widened, looking back to him. "The daughter of a lord should never have anything less than the utmost luxury and I have never promised you anything less."

As quickly as it had brightened, her face fell. "But we can't…"

"I think…" a smug grin crossed his face, "that you underestimate me."

Regaining her bearings, Belle merely sighed, playing along. "Who, you? Never."

"Well then. This way, m'lady," he said, ushering her up the ramp and onto the Ship of Dreams.

Lunch the following day was breathtaking. Floods of light through pristine windows, exquisite food, extravagant people and a gorgeous string quartet. A young man had stood up to sing with them, a table from the Golds, and was bringing his verse to a close. "If all my dreams were made of gold I'd buy the whole world for you."

The room applauded politely, but returned to their conversations. That is, except for the Golds, whose conversation hadn't yielded.

Belle's eyes smiled peacefully, taking in the rush of her husband's excitement as he grabbed her hands across the table. "Are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely certain," she nodded.

Mr. Gold stammered, taken completely aback. "How long have you known?" he asked, sliding his chair a bit closer to hers, gracelessly.

"About six weeks," she laughed, patting his hand gently. "I didn't want to tell you before I was sure."

"A baby?"

"A baby," she nodded, smiling. "You're going to be a father."

"And you're sure," he asked one more time. His wife's smile beamed as she continued nodding, reassuring him that she would never lie about something like this. "I love you," he cooed, leaning toward her, his chestnut eyes darting about, taking in her every line.

"I love you," she responded, leaning in a bit more and kissing him.

The couple readied themselves for bed. He sat at the vanity, scrawling feverishly on a pad of paper; she wandered around, mindlessly tidying the room before climbing into bed. Still, she should have known better than to expect him to come to bed when he was so clearly worked up. "Now, there are all sorts of plans to be made when we reach New York."

She rose from the bed, lilac dressing gown draped over her shoulders. "But that can all be taken care of then," she said, placing her hands on her husband's shoulders and kissing his neck. "We have a place to stay, yes?"

"Yes, but-" he started, wanting to explain himself without sounding too afraid.

"Enough money to see us through until you're set to open up shop?" Her blue eyes searched their reflections in the mirror.

"Yes, but-" he tried again, bringing his hand up to meet hers.

She sighed, leaning her cheek against his. "Proper provisions to set you on your way to opening up shop?"

"Yes, but-" He ran his free hand up to caress her cheek.

"Well, then we'll be fine," she concluded, draping her hands over his shoulders, running her hands down his chest, undoing the buttons for her husband. "I have faith in you," she affirmed, kissing his shoulder before turning back to the bed.

He covered his eyes with his hand before standing, dropping his shirt to the chair. "I fear your faith may be ill placed, dearie."

"I don't," she answered, propping herself on her elbows, corners of her mouth curling into a reassuring smile. "You're just nervous because there's more at stake now."

"Ay," he confirmed, draping his pants over the chair with his shirt and crossing to the bed, placing his weathered hand on her stomach and smiling at the thought of their child. "That's not to say that I'm not excited."

"I know that, my love," she said, leaning up and pressing her mouth to his, pulling her husband into bed with her.

Everything had finally settled and the Golds had drifted off to sleep when suddenly a knock came to the door and a steward came in, turning the lights on. "I'm sorry about the disturbance, Mr. and Mrs. Gold, but we're going to need you to put your life jackets on and come up to the deck." He stood patiently in front of them while Belle grasped for the sheet, covering herself in it.

"Life jacket?" she asked, aghast that someone was telling her to put on more clothes when she wasn't wearing any to speak of.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Gold asked, retrieving his Y-fronts from under the covers, and sliding them on as inconspicuously as possible.

"Nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you," the intruder said, averting his eyes and placing the vests onto the vanity, "but I ask that you do follow instruction."

"'Nothing to be alarmed about…' It's the middle of the night." When he'd made himself a bit more decent, Mr. Gold stood up, wrapping himself in his bathrobe and handing his wife her dressing gown. "I can assure you, lad, that anything causing us to go on deck at…" he reached for the mantle clock aghast "ten past midnight. I ask you, sir, what is happening?" He crossed the room, looking the man in the eye without hesitation.

The steward wavered instantly. "We seem to have struck an iceberg, sir. Now, I ask you to put on your life jackets and come upstairs." He turned on his heel, calling over his shoulder as he left, "And dress warmly."

Belle slid up behind him, wrapping him tightly in her arms. "An iceberg?"

"Come on," he turned to her. "Let's not worry now until we can get up and see what all of this is about."

Walking through the doors to the deck may as well have put them at Herald Square in New York for all of the hustle and bustle. Families were screaming and crying as men were pushed to the back of the line by crew members yelling "Women and children, only!"

Belle clutched tightly to her husband's side as they approached the edge. "I'm scared."

"Don't fret, dearie," he said, pulling her as tight to him as he could manage. "we'll get you off here and I'll be right behind." He kissed the top of her head and looked around, trying to keep a brave face, but very aware that something was wrong.

"Do you promise?" She asked, her eyes wide and child-like.

"I promise. I'll be right there." He kissed her lightly before allowing a crew member to take her hand. "I love you. Go ahead." Unable to watch her go, he turned, taking a moment to compose himself, knowing that she wouldn't go if she saw his worry.

"No," she whined and, when the stranger tried to push her toward the boat, she fought him off. "No! NO!" She let out a scream that brought his attention right back to him. "ADAM!" She ran across the deck, flinging herself back into her husband's arms, mouth crashing into his hungrily.

When he finally managed to pull himself away, Mr. Gold lifted his wife into his arms and carried her over to the boat, "Don't worry." He continued talking as he placed her in the boat. "There'll be a one for the men soon enough. I love you." He reached his hand in, keeping it pressed to hers as they began lowering the boat.

"I love you, too," she called back, reaching her fingers to keep the touch to his.

When she was out of his reach, he unfastened the boutonniere from his lapel and tossed it down to her. A single red rose.

Time passed quickly and before Mr. Gold knew it, the boats were gone and the Titanic was quickly disappearing beneath the Atlantic. In a rush, he found a crew member who was none too happy to deal with yet another husband. "What do you mean 'there won't be any room for the men.' Bring some of the first boats back." The White Star Line Employee gritted his teeth as Gold spoke. "They were sending them out with six women in them! You can't honestly expect me to believe that there's nothing you can do."

"Those boats are gone, sir. Here's an idea. Why don't you take a swim for it?" He gestured over the side of the ship and didn't seem to be the joking kind.

"You measly little piss-ant," Mr. Gold grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him off the deck. "Just you wait until I get a hold of someone-"

"Who? Who exactly are you going to get in contact with?" The man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a revolver and dug the barrel into Gold's chest. "You and me both are gonna die on this god forsaken ship. Now, you'll either get the bleedin' hell away from me or it'll happen sooner for you."

The passenger let out a disgruntled growl before he took off up the now slanting deck to find some sort of higher ground where he could see what exactly had to be done for him to get out of this alive.

When the ship had begun to capsize, Gold had made a jump for it, swimming out as far as he could. While he had managed to tread against the suction, his strength was beginning to falter. The air was growing eerily quiet, so he' decided to sing to himself. "If all my dreams were made of gold I'd buy the whole world for you." The song from the dining room, when his beloved had told him that he would be a father. A child that would now never know its father. He would never know the glow of his wife as she hummed their child to sleep. Instead, the last image he'd have of her was sobbing as she was pulled away to continue a life without him. "I'm so sorry, Belle," he whispered, willpower waning as he tried desperately to cling onto the memory of the warm light of the dining room and the music and her beautiful blue eyes glimmering. "I'm so, so sorry."

The electric lamp cast a warm glow into the nursery, making visible the single pressed rose, framed over the crib. Belle sang quietly to the newborn in her arms. "My Baby Rose, my Baby Rose. Nobody knows how l am crazy to stick along no matter where she goes. That breeze that blows tells me of Rose. There's not a thing I wouldn't do If she asked me to." She coddled the baby to her breast and rocked her back and forth. "Oh, my Baby Rose. Your papa was a strong man, a good man. And I'm so sorry you'll never get to meet him, my baby Rose." She smiled to herself, recalling her last few days with her husband and grateful that nothing had gone wrong with her precious daughter. "But even for the few hours that he knew you, he loved you." That was something that she knew without a doubt.


End file.
